


Big Little Brother

by ziskandra



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon his return to America, Miles Edgeworth must clean up the mess he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Little Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on the Phoenix Wright Kink meme in 2009: "Anon wants to see how Miles reacts to the courthouse shooting in 2-4. Maybe he's panicking because it reminds him of the day his father died? Or is he afraid he's going to lose Franziska, who is the only "family" he has left? 
> 
> romance, angst, whatever is fine"

Miles Edgeworth has never liked guns. It’s only in the past few months that he’s been able to stop dreaming of gunshots. That’s why, when he hears the gun go off this time, that he believes he’s imaging things. It’s just a sound, a brief auditory hallucination from the past. 

Or at least that’s what he thinks before he sees Franziska falter, several steps in front of him – she’d been marching angrily towards the courthouse, ignoring all his attempts to talk to her. Actually, he’s not sure what he notices first – the way Franziska stops, or her cry of pain. 

It doesn’t matter that it’s a crowded busy street; Miles takes advantage of the fact that Franziska’s stopped walking to run up to her. Franziska’s face is as pale as a sheet, her left hand clutching her right shoulder – her whip is at her feet where she has dropped it in shock. 

Franziska has every reason to be shocked; there’s blood streaming from her shoulder, and it’s already staining her white sleeve red. For a moment, Miles does not know what to do. Franziska’s eyes are glazed and unfocused. The first thing that slips out of his mouth is, “Are you all right?” It’s a stupid question, he must admit – she’s just been shot. 

Something inside of Miles numbs over then – someone has just shot his sister. 

Nevertheless, the question seems to snap Franziska out of her daze, but her voice is still weak as she snaps, “I’m fine,” and before Miles can do anything to stop her, she is grimacing and bending down to retrieve her fallen whip. 

Miles grabs her wrist, mostly in an attempt to stop herself from hurting herself further. She’s still so small; even though she has grown up these past few years, Miles stills sees her as the girl he more or less left behind in Germany back when she had been thirteen. 

Franziska seethes, pulling away from the contact, but Miles’s grip is tight on her left hand – he doesn’t want to pull on the right one, doesn’t want to do any more damage than has already been done. 

It’s when Franziska lashes out in pure frustration, kicking at Miles’s shin does he realise that there’s a crowd gathering – a man in a boring business suit pulls out his cellphone, calls 911 and Miles could kick himself right there and then, if Franziska hadn’t already had the honour – wouldn’t calling emergency services have been the responsible thing to have done? 

For a moment, the world seems to spin and all he can hear is a gunshot ringing in his ears. It’s not the same gunshot he heard moments previously, however, it’s an older one, one from sixteen years ago: 

_Stop breathing my aaaaair!_

And it’s strange how it’s in that moment that Miles remembers to breathe again, and he’s brought back to reality, back to the fact that he still hasn’t let go of Franziska wrists even though she’s flailing and yelling and…what is she even saying? 

“Let go of me this instant, Miles Edgeworth!” she screams, “Foolishly foolish man who’s fool enough to foolishly interfere with my plans!” She takes a step; Miles pulls her back – the process repeats, the crowd merely watching, until the ambulance comes, all sirens and flashing lights and before he knows it, he’s in the back of the ambulance with Franziska almost being forcibly pushed to the stretcher. She’s red in the face, but Miles is still holding onto her. 

“The trial,” she hisses, eyebrows slanted, her voice full of fire, “I _can’t_ miss the trial.” 

Franziska’s stubborn, almost stubborner than Miles remembers her being all those years ago back at the estate (and that’s saying a lot); but maybe they’d been too busy studying back then, or maybe this is all Miles’s fault. 

He should have known what would have happened to her in his absence, but when he had first left America, he hadn’t been thinking of his sister at all. Was it his fault, then, that Franziska was in this country at all? That she’d been in a position to be shot at? 

If Miles Edgeworth knew anything, it was that he’d have to clean up the mess he left behind – and he knew Franziska wouldn’t be happy with that, that she’d perceive it as her own personal failure, but there was no way she could work with such an injury. He just hoped, fervently, desperately, that after this case that there would be time for them to reconcile properly, the way they should have done several years ago. 

He wanted to help her. He didn’t want her to make the same mistakes he had. “It will all be taken care of,” Miles promises, and although Franziska will assume he’s only referring to the case, he means more than that. He means he wants her to stop acting foolish, to stop this self-destructive nonsense, to be the best that she can be. 

She’ll always be his little sister. 

Franziska glares but there’s nothing she can do anymore, and it’s only once they reach the hospital that Edgeworth lets go, satisfied Franziska is in safe hands – he’ll have to hurry if he’s to make it to the courtroom in time. He has to set a good example, after all.


End file.
